


Entrée chaude

by Talimee



Series: Fräulein Agathe's Backyard Café - Delicacies For Every Taste [2]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (kinda), Daddy Kink, M/M, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Verbal Humiliation, everything is quite mild though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talimee/pseuds/Talimee
Summary: Once in a while they meet in secrecy, once in a while they pretend to be someone else.





	Entrée chaude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salmon95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon95/gifts).



The marquee was actual fucking velvet. Max sighed in mixed awe and disgust. Cut crystal windows, potted thuja and brass so polished it shone like goddamned gold. The whole place reeked of money – and not in the subtle, continental way.

Max shook the lapels of his coat and straightened his tie before he squared his shoulders and walked, no stalked, up to the glittering double doors. The doorman slid out of his bored slouch and stepped aside, bowing as he opened the way for Max. The journalist nodded to the man as he passed by, stepped over the threshold and was Max Lobo no more.

 

The interior was a rush of gold and red velvet, of gold decor, marble and mahogany. All of that faded into the background, though, as he was hailed from his right by an astonishingly beautiful young man, clad in slacks and a cashmere jumper.

“Dad!”

He walked over and the boy slid gracefully into his arms. “Chris”, he murmured. He pecked his cheek and addressed the hovering maitre'd nearby: “Table for two. The name's Winston.”

The man glanced down into his book and found the reservation as he knew he would. “This way, gentlemen”, he purred with a dazzling smile. Eddie and his son followed him into a private séparée. If anyone noticed the way Eddie's arm slipped around his boy's waist and pulled him close, they certainly did not remark on it.

Barely seated, their waiter appeared and handed out their menus. Eddie merely glanced at the thick cotton paper but courtesy demanded a look; he knew what he'd be eating. Across the table Chris was slowly perusing the food, closing the menu with a leathery flap when he had decided. He looked up at Eddie over the rim of his wire-framed glasses and the sultry gleam in his eyes made the older man grateful that he was sitting down.

“Anything to drink, Sirs?”

Eddie nodded and cleared his throat. “A double scotch for me, a Pepsi light for my son.”

Chris waited until their waiter had whisked away before locking eyes with Eddie again.

“Scotch before dinner?”, he teased. “How plebeian.”

“Shut up and be glad I didn't order Coke for you”, Eddie teased back. Their banter was light, a flurry of words between people who _knew_ each other inside out. Chris gasped theatrically at his words but was interrupted before he could say something by the arrival of their drinks.

“Cheers!” Eddie toasted and Chris lifted his glass as well: “To a delightful evening.”

 

The salads had come and gone. They were waiting for the main course.

“This suits you”, Eddie said with an embarrassed little cough to fill a dip in their conversation. Chris looked up in confusion, then flashed a look of annoyance when Eddie gestured at his two-thousand dollar jumper and five-thousand dollar coat. Eddie's suit was cut to measure, lined with silk – someone like him wouldn't remark on his son's wardrobe unless …

“I bought it extra for you”, Chris simpered. “Have to look nice for my daddy, right?”

“Can't have you run around like a hoodlum”, Eddie confirmed, in character again. “No son of mine is wearing street punk rags that fall apart at the seams.”

“Only the best for you.” Chris' voice dropped an octave, its sultriness sending thrills down Eddie's spine and to his groin. “Although, I have to confess something, dad.” Chris' gaze fluttered up to him from beneath his artfully disheveled hair. “I'm not wearing anything underneath.”

Eddie slammed his eyes shut against the sudden imagery of a barely haired chest caressed by luxurious cloth, of a youthful, smooth cock teased by the cold metal of a zipper. He exhaled with a sigh but turned it into a scoff.

“College has taught you to behave like a slut”, Eddie said gruffly. “Come 'ere, boy”, he ordered.

Chris exhaled shakily, his pink tongue dashing out to wet his lips. His cheeks powdered with arousal (and Eddie's trousers growing tight at the delicious sight), he cast a furtive look around them before he slipped from his chair and under their table. The potted plants in their séparée prevented anyone from seeing Chris vanishing, the floor-long table cloth insured that it stayed that way. A second later, Eddie felt the soft touch of hands on his knees, pushing them far enough apart to fit a slim body between them. He felt a nose nuzzle against his crotch, hands stroking the insides of his thighs in a confident, assured manner that made Eddie's head swim.

“I learned so much more, Daddy”, Chris said huskily, his voice muffled through the cloth of his trousers. “Let me show you.”

“Quiet!” Eddie hissed as their main course arrived. A medium rare steak was put in front of him, but his concentration was all on the deft fingers unzipping his trousers. It cost all his self-control to nod appreciatively at the waiter and wave him away as his cock was lifted out and a hot mouth latched itself on it. Fingers ran up and down his pulsing length, a slick tongue twirled around the head, along the shaft.

His hands shook as he laid his napkin across his crotch, hoping to conceal even more what Chris was doing between his legs. His hips trembled with the struggle to keep still. He wanted nothing more than to thrust forward into the slick cavern offered for his cock, to claim and possess and don't give a damn of who would see him fucking his beautiful son. He took knife and fork in hand. The tender, medium-rare meat leaked juice as he cut in it and he swallowed a piece of it just in time to give an innocent meaning to his moans.

“Please, daddy”, Chris whispered from below in a small voice. “Touch me.”

Eddie's trembling left hand let go of his fork and slipped beneath the linen table cloth. He found Chris' face, felt the boy lean his cheek into his palm for a second before Eddie slipped the appendage around his head and gripped his soft hair. His dick was pulsing, air prickling cool with drying saliva along his shaft. His balls tight at the image of Chris' slick, pink lips around his shaft, his mouth stretched by his girth.

“C'mon on, boy”, he growled.

He pushed down, felt Chris' sputters around his head as he touched the back of his throat. He pulled back and pushed down again. And again. Chris' hands rested on his tights, never flinching, never trying to prevent the use to which Eddie put his mouth. Again, and again. He felt the coils of pleasure heating up in his groin, winding him tight. Chris bobbed his head in time with his pushes, now, huffing and grunting under his breath, his hands sliding up and down Eddie's cock were his mouth couldn't reach, yet.

“Is that all, boy?”, Eddie sneered just loud enough for Chris to hear. “I pay … a hundred grand a year for your education … and this is all you have to show for it?”, he gasped. Chris moaned.

Eddie reached for his scotch and gulped it down. The burn in the back of his throat mixing with the burn in his guts. Close, so close … His rasping breaths were nearly loud enough to draw attention from the other guests. His balls were so tight. Gearing up to shoot his load into the teasing, licking, sucking hole on his cock.

Chris latched himself onto his dick with renewed vigor, slurping him down like a treat, all wet noises and groans of pleasure. He pressed down on him again and this time his son's throat slipped down around his dick like a pulsing tight sleeve. Eddie pushed him all the way down, tightened his grip on his boy's head and kept him in place; nose nestled in his pubes, balls against his chin, pretty face speared on his daddy's cock. His eyes fell on the plate with Chris' cooling dinner. Asparagus and sauce hollandaise. _How fitting._

“Make me proud, son”, he gasped. Chris swallowed and Eddie came.

 

 


End file.
